Another Try
by Christine's better choice
Summary: Theirs was a love forged from the forbidden kiss of day and night;a brief moment when the sun surrenders her innocence to the seductive embrace of the night.After a startling dream,can Christine find the courage to make the decision that'll make her happy
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot to this story

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot to this story. The characters and everything else belong to Andrew Lloyd Webber and his fabulous film version of the musical The Phantom of the Opera. EC shipper.

Prelude

A soft winter breeze tousled her silver curls and brought chills to her brittle skin. On the wind she could smell the faintest trace of coming spring. All the world would come budding back to life, but she would not be around to see it. She would not be around to enjoy the blooming of the roses, her favorite event.

She would die in the still clutches of winter, the warmth of the summer sun never again to touch her skin,

Many years had passed since her days as prima donna, her days of innocent youth. She was now married and had given life to five beautiful children and had been granted three grandchildren. Now she was simply an old dying woman; a woman who had enjoyed few things in life since her twentieth birthday. Now she openly welcomed death, in fact she had wished for it long before death would come knocking on her door.

The feeling of crushing loneliness and emptiness had drowned the life from her over the years. As time continued, the youthful sparkle in her eyes flickered and died, her spirit following in the wake. No longer did her voice grace listeners with the sound of angels in heaven; no, her voice had been buried forever the night she left him below the ruined opera house. Now she was but a shell of her former self; a porcelain doll that smiled, nodded, and laughed when the occasion deemed those actions appropriate. Many decades had passed since a genuine smile curved her lips or laugh pass her mouth.

Oh how she welcomed death, its welcomed release. She closed her eyes and tried to forget the painful life she had endured and to picture the last wonderful moments in her life.


	2. Chapter 2

It was no surprise to her when the memories that flooded her mind were not of her marriage nor were they of the birth of her c

It was no surprise to her when the memories that flooded her mind were not of her marriage nor were they of the birth of her children and grandchildren. These were the memories of her Angel:

The way his voice would wrap around her, and swaddle her in a world of dark seduction and beautiful music. The softness in his eyes when he looked at her, the gentleness of his strong hands when he touched her. She remembered how warm and soft his skin was when he touched her for the first time without the barrier of cold leather gloves. She shivered at the memory.

His touch left a trail of fire on her skin and made her heart flutter. His kiss could make her melt in his arms, and he had only kissed her twice. All the love he possessed was poured into those two kisses, and she knew that she would never again be able to kiss another, not even her husband, without wishing it were him.

Her lips tingled more with each memory. Oh how she wanted to be held in his arms again. The memory of the pain she saw in his eyes when he told her to leave tore her heart to shreds. He loved her. He loved her and God forgive her, she loved him too.

Her body came to life for the first time in fifty years. She was alive with pain, regret, love, and the memory of his voice. Everything came flooding back to her in one swift moment. This was the first time since she left the burning opera house that she had allowed herself to think of him; the man who held her heart captive.

She could no longer push the memory of him away. She had tried to forget for so long; now she just wished for the pain to disappear. The hurt of never knowing what life with her Angel could have been like weighed heavily on her heart. She would never know. He had died a mere two months after she left him, but she would soon be joining him. Soon she will be going home to him.

"Christine." The voice of Raoul, her husband, drifted through the open balcony doors. When she did not answer he called again, his voice becoming more frantic as it moved closer and became clearer. "Christine!"

She woke to the sound of Raoul calling for her from outside the dressing room, his aristocratic fist beating relentlessly on the painted pine door.

She pulled herself from the dense fog of sleep surrounding her mind and walked to the door, opening it to find a flustered Vicomte. "Raoul what is it?" His appearance was ghastly; his hair was unkempt, bags swelled under his eyes, days of not shaving were dreadfully obvious, and his expensive clothes were horribly wrinkled.

He stood before her, his eyes frantically looking over her body from head to toe and back again. His eyes roaming over her body made her aware of only the thin chemise covering her from his prying eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest and took a step back. "Raoul?"

"Christine, the curtains go up in twenty minutes. Everyone is waiting on you. We have one chance to catch this blasted phantom of yours and we need to do it." His voice was low and calm but he was speaking to her as if she were a five year old asking why she can't have a pony. "Go ahead and get ready. This will all be over soon and then we can start our life together away from this." He gestured around the room, a sour look on his face before he kissed her on the forehead and strode off down the hall.


	3. Chapter 3

She shut the door and sat back down on her bed, the dream and the words Raoul had said replaying in her head

She shut the door and sat back down on her bed, the dream and the words Raoul had said replaying in her head. 'Your phantom' he had said. In a way she believed it to be true for she was the only one he had allowed to see him, but the dream seemed to show that she was _his_. Why would she long for death? Why would she want the Phantom so badly? Why did the opera house burn? Did she really want to know? The question that she wanted answered the most, however, was why did the Phantom make her feel like that? She didn't love him, it was impossible; she was in love with Raoul.

Raoul. As the thought of him taking her as his wife entered her mind, she took note of the lack of …anything. She felt no shivers, no butterflies in her stomach, no blood rushing to give her face a beautiful cherry color. She felt nothing, but then _his_ velvet voice floated into the room and her heart fluttered and chills ran across her skin. "Christine…" Her stomach did pirouettes and fire seemed to rush through her veins scorching her skin, begging for his touch to relieve the pain.

He had been watching her as she slept. Her beautiful face was twisted with what seemed to be pain and sorrow. Small whimpers would pass her lips and sometimes a tear would slide down her porcelain face. It hurt him to see her cry, even in her sleep so he risked it. Thanking the thick curtains shielding the room from the last rays of sunlight, he stepped into the room and sat beside her on the bed. As the next tear began to fall, he lovingly brushed it away with the pad of his thumb. She shivered slightly as the leather was cooler than her skin. He cursed himself for forgetting to remove the gloves before touching her, but he still dare not allow his skin to meet hers.

He sat watching her, his eyes tracing her, committing every feature to memory. He took his time studying her face and slender neck, the creamy flesh of her shoulders, and… he noticed the thin chemise that covered her otherwise bare form, the blanket had been pushed back during her tossing and turning, slightly exposing her breasts. He, knowing how self conscious she was about her body and loving her too much to take advantage of her, gingerly pulled the covers up back around her shoulders.

The sound of Raoul calling for her reminded him of what it was that she had agreed to do that night. He spared one last glance at her, leaned down and kissed the corner of her mouth then disappeared into the shadows. He listened to the boy tell Christine to get ready and then listened to his footsteps echo and fade down the hallway. As she sat back on the bed, he watched as confusion covered her face. She looked so lost and alone, he wanted to comfort her, hold her and wipe away every tear shed, but he knew that he couldn't; all he could do was whisper her name and fade into the shadows once again and wait for the show to begin.


	4. Chapter 4

Christine stood off stage left waiting for her cue to walk into the spotlight, lift her voice to the heavens, and essentially

Christine stood off stage left waiting for her cue to walk into the spotlight, lift her voice to the heavens, and essentially condemn her Angel to Hell. Her hands shook violently and her breath was coming in ragged gasps. 'What am I doing?' she thought to herself. 'How can I stand here and prepare to betray the only person who has always been there for me? Whenever I needed him he was there to listen and comfort. Can I really do this?'

She didn't have anytime to think it through for it was now her time to sing. With a deep breath she walked onto stage with a heavy heart, knowing that her choice had been made and there was no going back.

"No thoughts within her head but thoughts of joy, no dreams within her heart but dreams of love!" her voice was clear as crystal and silenced the crowd's murmurs of revulsion of the scandalous opera.

She sat at the edge of the stage pulling thorns off one of the many roses she had in the basket before her and once again the audience began to whisper amongst themselves. The air was pregnant with anticipation with a twinge of boredom from some, but the feeling didn't last long.

"Passarino, go away for the trap is set and waits for its prey…" That voice, one that she knew all too well, wrapped around her and ensnared her senses, along with all else who were listening. She tried but failed to suppress the shiver that ran down her back and up again at the feel of his eyes on her. He was moving towards her, his voice mesmerizing all.

"You have come her, in pursuit of your deepest urge, in pursuit of that wish which 'til now has been silent, silent, I have brought you, that our passions may fuse and merge, in your mind you've already succumbed to me, dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me, now you are here with me, no second thoughts, you've decided, decided…"

She knew that she should resist him, but she found that she didn't want to. She found herself longing for his eyes to keep their promise of endless love and nights of… she blushed and blocked that thought from her head and focused once again on his voice.

"Past the point of no return, no backward glances, our games of make-believe are at an end, past all thoughts of "if" or "when", no use resisting, abandon thought and let the dream descend…" he was so close now, and he was getting closer and for the first time she noticed, with a surprising amount of excitement, that he was not wearing the leather gloves that he was so fond of but his hands were bare.

"…What raging fire shall flood the soul, what rich desire unlocks its door, what sweet seduction lies before us? Past the point of no return, the final threshold, what warm unspoken secrets will we learn, beyond the point of no, return." His voice faded into silence, leaving her to imagine how it would feel to have his hands, which were so soft on her skin only seconds before, caress her body and… the music cued her to sing, leaving that thought to hang in the back of her head.

"You have brought me, to that moment when words run dry, to that moment when speech disappears into silence, silence, I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why, in my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent, now I am here with you, no second thoughts, I've decided, decided…" The words continued to pour from her mouth but her mind replayed the dream she had only minutes ago. The feeling of loneliness and emptiness still felt so real.

'How could I have felt lonely and unhappy? I had my husband, whom I love deeply…' though even as she thought it, she knew it to be untrue, 'and I had my children and my grandchildren. What more can a woman ask for?'

Her mind refused to answer the question and instead refocused on the events unfolding before her. She was on top of the bridge and looking into the emerald eyes of the phantom. He had removed his cloak and they were singing in unison and walking towards each other. When they met in the center, they reached for the other. He turned her so that her back was flush against his chest. He held her hands in his and held her close.

Her heart slammed into her chest as he pulled her close. She felt safe in his arms, safe and loved. She relaxed and allowed her head to lull against his shoulder, her eyes closed and a smile upon her lips. The music had slowed and become softer, and his voice, softer and more disheartened, filled the air once more.

"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime, lead me, save me from my solitude, say you want me with you, here beside you, anywhere you go let me go too, Christine, that's all I ask of…"

She had not expected him to sing that, it broke her heart to know that he had been on the roof that night and she knew that she had broken his heart that night too.

She knew what she had to do and she did it. She surprised him. Him and all who were watching. Before he could finish the song she had done the unimaginable, she had kissed him.


	5. Chapter 5

The music came to an abrupt end and everyone gasped in shock as the prima donna kissed the masked man

The music came to an abrupt end and everyone gasped in shock as the prima donna kissed the masked man. The Vicomte de Chagny stood up in fury and surprise, he wanted to give the order to fire on the Phantom, but the words were stuck in his throat at the sight of his fiancée passionately kissing that monster. 'She has never kissed me like that' he thought furiously. 'But she will'

At first he didn't know what to do, he had imagined her doing many things-calling for the police, running away, or, what he feared the most, ripping his mask away and once again exposing him to the cruelty of the world-but he had never dreamed that she would kiss him. The feel of her soft lips on his was enough to bring tears to his beautiful eyes; he didn't want to let go. He wanted more.

She pulled away slightly to look into his eyes and whispered the three words that her heart had longed to say. "I love you."

He pulled her against him, his mouth crashing down upon hers. A small moan escaped her lips and his grip on her hips tightened as she shoved her hands into his hair and arched her back to bring herself closer to him.

They were caught up in each other; they were finally where their hearts had always been. At that moment, nothing else mattered to them, the outside world didn't exist.

Neither one knew until it was too late. His keen hearing had failed him and there was a price to pay. The air shook with the thunder of a gunshot. Screams followed and soon silence ensued. Christine and her Phantom stood holding each other, fear in both their eyes. The moment seemed to last forever.

He felt the familiar warm stickiness of blood.

She felt the new sensation of warm flowing blood.


	6. Chapter 6

He stood with the smoking gun in his hands, a smug smile upon his face

He stood with the smoking gun in his hands, a smug smile upon his face. Yes, he had committed murder, but it wasn't anything personal, 'just good business.' He mused while putting the gun back onto the seat. He straightened his jacket and turned to walk out of the box.

"What have you done?" Andre squeaked as he looked with terror filled eyes at his friend. "Firmin… you've just killed…" He couldn't finish the accusation, his throat ran dry and he sank onto the floor shaking his head. 'This can't be happening.' He thought to himself, the events of only moments ago taunting him over and over in his head.

The audience below cried out in shock and anger once again drawing the attention of the two managers.

She gave him a weak smile as a single tear rolled down her face leaving behind a trail of smudged rouge. He let out a strangled cry, one that masked the usual magnificence of his voice, as she collapsed into his arms, her costume soaked in blood. He looked around helplessly briefly before he looked back at her.

"I'm okay. I'm okay" she whispered in a soft soothing voice. He could see the pain in her eyes but noticed none in her voice. "Are you hit? Are you okay?" This time her voice wavered and was filled with pain and laced with fear. He nodded his head. "Shhhh…" Tears were beginning to fall from his eyes. He reached for his abandoned cloak and wrapped it around her firmly trying to slow the blood flow; he was beginning to panic. He gathered her in his arms and rocked back and forth humming a song in a shaky, tear filled voice.

"Erik." A firm voice pulled his attention to the woman standing a few feet from them. "It will be alright, my dear. Let Monsieur Gilles tend to her." It took several men to pry Christine out of his arms. He stood there like a lonely lost child as he watched the doctor remove the cloak, the corset and cut a hole in the dress to get to the wound.

A part of him wanted to kill the man for exposing his Christine like that to all who were present. No one had a right to look at her. Another part of him wanted to cry at the sight of all the blood that was flowing from her small body. He was terrified.

'Curious.' Madame Giry thought as she looked at Erik, 'I haven't seen that look of terror and helplessness in his eyes since he was a boy. He really does love her.' A slow smile curved her otherwise pursed lips.

She pulled Erik to the side, hoping to get his mind off the task at hand. He leaned on her as his body shook in fear. "Tell me that she will live Nette." Madame Giry looked at him in shock. It had been many years since he used his nickname for her. "She will be fine my dear. Doctor Gilles assured me that the wound is not fatal, it will simply take some time to heal." The look of relief that washed over him was overwhelming, but he was still understandably upset.

"I want you to listen to me Erik. Do not think for a moment that it was the young Vicomte who shot Christine. Anyone who was watching, as I was, knows that it was Monsieur Firmin. Now don't _kill_ him." She hastily added that as she recognized that familiar glint in his emerald eyes. "He has probably gone back to the office to gather some money to bribe the chief of police, since the plan was to kill you and not the prima donna."

He stole one last glance at Christine's limp and blood covered body. His eyes darkened and his posture was rigid. When he turned to walk off the stage and towards the managers office, Madame Giry thought he resembled a panther on the prowl; silent, powerful, graceful, careful, and extremely deadly.

Firmin was behind the desk gathering as much money as he could. He looked up as a dark figure filled the doorway. In one swift motion the door was slammed closed, the candles were snuffed with the gust of wind and a cold voice whispered in his ear. " No where to run."


	7. Chapter 7

She was sleeping peacefully; a soft smile curved her full lips as she dreamt

She was sleeping peacefully; a soft smile curved her full lips as she dreamt. He was watching her from the edge of the bed, the shadows of the night beginning to wane as the first rays of golden sunlight peeked above the horizon.

Her every movement brought joy to his heart; her eyes moving slightly behind closed lids, her mouth curving into a gentle smile, the even rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, she was so perfect. Even in the dark she was an angel of light, a soft glow still clung to her delicate porcelain. As he continued to watch his sleeping beauty he wondered of what she was dreaming.

_Morning dew clung to the manicured lawn and glistened like millions of diamonds as the sun took her place high in the sky. Birds of every size and color played cheerfully, their songs filling the morning air with the sound of Heaven. _

_Laughter echoed through the manor and drifted into the yard as the children ran from the dining room into the vast Japanese inspired garden. Two of the boys climbed up and hid in the blossoms of the cherry tree, while the two girls stood behind a large plum tree. Just beyond the plum tree was an enchanting pond, the bottom covered in colored pebbles which caught the light of the sun, and the water's surface was sprinkled with the fallen petals of the plum and cherry blossoms. The kids tried to stifle their giggles behind their hands as their Aunt came searching for them. She looked through the patch of bamboo and behind the beautiful large reclining and vertical stones surrounding a large fountain carved in alabaster._

"_Where could they be?" She wondered aloud, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. As she passed by the enormous cherry tree, one of the boys let out a snicker and she looked up into Mikhail's emerald eyes. "Gotcha!" He jumped out of tree landing just out of her reach and ran in the direction of his sisters. "You're not gonna get me Aunt Meg!"_

_Christine laughed as the other three children joined in, taking turns chasing their aunt. The spring air tousled the masses of jet black hair and a single head of golden blonde hair. As she turned around the plum tree, Meg found herself under a pile of laughing children. "Looks like we got you." Mikhail snickered, sticking his tongue out at her._

_His smirk was quickly wiped off his face when he found himself being thrown into the air; he was just about to fall to the ground when strong arms caught him and lowered him safely to his feet. "My turn, Daddy!" Suzan cried tugging at her father's pant leg. "But I want to go higher!!" _

_He smiled and tossed her high into the air listening to her giggle hysterically in delight. Over and over he threw her above his head and caught her just before her tiny feet touched the ground. "Me next!" the other three children cried in unison as they crowded around him, blocking all escapes._

"_Can you handle all of them, dear?" Christine called from the bench by the fountain. His eyes drifted to her and his heart stuttered. She was dressed in a solid white cotton day empire waist dress, the sleeves hanging off her shoulders and cascading down her delicate arms. Her chocolate curls were piled simply on top of her head, a few tendrils hanging down to frame her face, and interlaced in the curls were two chains of cherry blossoms, the pink matching the healthy blush in her cheeks. He believed that he had never seen something as beautiful as she, and he smiled._

_Her heart melted at that smile. He was the most wonderful man she had ever met and everything about him made her realize every day how much she loved him. The morning sun bounced off his skin and brought out the emerald color and accented the scattered gold specks of his eyes._

_The two twin boys were gathered at his legs while the two twin girls were cuddled in his arms, their heads resting on his shoulders. He loved those kids so much and he was so wonderful with them. He was so handsome; he was hers. Her Erik._


End file.
